


one for the books

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3730960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre finds a phone number in an old library book and makes a new friend. (Even though he kind of scolded them for writing into library books.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	one for the books

Combeferre liked the library. It wasn’t the job of his dreams, mainly because it was just one of the smaller university libraries and there weren’t nearly as many books as Combeferre would have liked to be in charge of, but he hadn’t even graduated yet and it was definitely a start.

It was just the beginning of term, so the library was mostly empty and Combeferre had taken to sorting some new books into their respective shelves. It was a slow-going task, mainly because Combeferre kept looking into books with interesting titles or covers, getting caught up in completely random chapters.

He was just about to move on to the next shelf when he spotted another book, stuffed behind all the others. Combeferre sighed and pried it out from back there. There were always people who seemed to have some sort of aversion against putting their books back where they’d got them. Then people came up to him telling him they couldn’t find a book and Combeferre went off on an odyssey to find it again.

Not that anyone had come looking for this one – or at least not during one of Combeferre’s shifts. Combeferre flipped it open, mainly because he was curious. It was a history of art book, last checked out over four years ago, which meant that it had either been hidden ever since then or that it just wasn’t a very interesting book.

The latter assumption was confirmed when he turned the page and found a phone number scrawled there at the bottom along with _call me when this book has got more interesting_. Then: _turn to page 54_. Combeferre, curious as he was, did. He was greeted by an overview of Greek and Hellenistic art together with a pencil drawing of rather intricately decorated Greek urn that had _haha made you look_ written in its middle.

Combeferre rolled his eyes and decided to take the book back to the front desk with him. At least it was all written and drawn in pencil, so he wouldn’t have much trouble erasing it. He quickly put the rest of the new books where they belonged, then he found himself an eraser, smiling at Jehan, who was manning the front desk.

Before Combeferre erased the phone number, however, he paused, frowning down at the page. The writing was smudged and Combeferre had no idea for how long it had already been there, but his curiosity got the better of him.

He reached into his bag and pulled out his phone. He typed in the number, pausing again before he started typing out a text. He wasn’t quite sure what to say, for all he knew that person might have a different number now and maybe scolding them for writing into a library book wasn’t the best idea. Combeferre also left notes in his own books every now and then, but they were his own books and those notes were useful ones. He tended to treat his books like good friends. Which they were, in a way.

Eventually Combeferre did type, _Why on earth would you leave your phone number in a library book? That’s not what they’re there for._ He kept staring down at his phone for the following five minutes, but eventually realized that he wasn’t going to receive an answer. Either not at all or at least not any time soon, so he decided that he might as well go back to work.

Afterwards he didn’t think much about it anymore. After the end of his shift he ran into Courfeyrac and Combeferre ended up walking him home before he got on the bus back to his and Enjolras’ apartment. He picked up some food at the grocery store across the street from the bus stop and cooked dinner for himself and Enjolras when he was home.

Enjolras wasn’t there yet, but arrived about fifteen minutes after Combeferre, quite obviously angry about something. Combeferre spent the following hour listening to Enjolras rant about one of his professors and trying to get Enjolras to eat some of his food in between angry outbursts.

It wasn’t until later on, when he’d made himself comfortable on the couch with a new book, Enjolras sitting on the other end with his laptop, now looking a lot happier than before, that Combeferre remembered the text he’d sent earlier.

He went to get his phone, a little surprised when he saw the little envelope that indicated that he’d received a message. When he checked, he found several waiting for him. One from Courfeyrac, asking him if he and Enjolras wanted to meet him for lunch tomorrow and then a couple from an unknown contact.

Combeferre returned to the living room and sat back down on the couch, opening the messages. The first one was from two hours ago.

_Unknown Contact: what the hell is going on?? who are you???_

Then there were more from only about a couple of minutes ago.

_Unknown Contact: wait i think i know what this is about, you found that boring as fuck art history book didn’t you oh my god i can’t believe this_

_Unknown Contact: it’s been years_

_Unknown Contact: literally_

_Unknown Contact: are you like the library police_

_Unknown Contact: if you are i apologize for leaving my number in that book but if you’ve taken a look at it you’ll know that it’s useless and that it doesn’t have nearly as many dicks in it as an art history book should have pls don’t arrest me_

Combeferre couldn’t really bite back a smile. He was glad that Enjolras seemed to be rather intrigued by whatever he was looking at on his laptop and wasn’t paying him any mind.

_You: Don’t worry, I don’t even know who you are._

_Unknown Contact: i see so you just felt like giving me shit_

_Unknown Contact: seriously though you have to admit that it’s not a very good book_

_You: I have to admit that I didn’t look at it for very long._

_Unknown Contact: well you didn’t miss much_

_Unknown Contact: nothing that le gros doesn’t cover in the introductory lecture_

_Unknown Contact: well i assume that you’re taking that lecture otherwise you’d have never gone looking for that book_

_You: I’m actually not an art major. I just stumbled across the book at the library._

He didn’t need to mention that he also worked there. He had no idea who this person was, so Combeferre really shouldn’t give anything important away. He probably shouldn’t have sent that text in the first place.

_Unknown Contact: good for you_

_Unknown Contact: you might actually find a job then_

_Unknown Contact: i’m being overdramatic i actually have a job_

Combeferre was just about to answer when he realized that Enjolras was now looking at him, the corner of his lips curled into a smile. “What?” Combeferre asked.

“Nothing,” Enjolras said with a shrug, “you’re just smiling at your phone.”

“I think I actually do that a lot,” Combeferre muttered.

“Yeah, but usually it’s more like a _oh Courfeyrac sent me a picture of a cute puppy_ smile.” Enjolras shrugged and looked back down at his laptop, which was basically the end of their conversation.

Combeferre knew that it wasn’t like Enjolras didn’t want to know what Combeferre was actually smiling about, but that he knew that Combeferre would quite possibly tell him eventually anyway. If there was something to tell.

Combeferre hummed and turned back to his reply, which wasn’t even needed anymore, because his, well, new acquaintance – if Combeferre could even call them that – had already sent him another string of texts.

_Unknown Contact: anyway consider me berated_

_Unknown Contact: i’ll never do it again although i do remember that i was really happy about that urn i drew_

_Unknown Contact: not sure if you saw that one_

_Unknown Contact: although if you were pissed about the phone number you probably would have been pissed about that one as well_

_You: I saw it. It was a good drawing. Although you could have just used a piece of paper for it._

_Unknown Contact: i formally apologize and i’ll donate a new unblemished copy to the library immediately_

_You: Very funny._

_Unknown Contact: ah that fine hint of sarcasm_

_Unknown Contact: i like you_

_Unknown Contact: even though you’re obviously a huge book nerd_

_You: I fail to see how that’s something bad._

_Unknown Contact: well i never said it was something bad it was just a simple statement_

_Unknown Contact: i think i’ll save your number as book nerd_

_Unknown Contact: you can save me as annoying prick as i’m sure that’s what you think i am_

_Unknown Contact: so what’s your favorite book_

Combeferre spent the following five minutes explaining why he couldn’t possibly decide and then sent them a list of twenty books that were important to him, knowing full well that that list might look completely different on any other given day.

Ten minutes later they were exchanging book recommendations, getting caught up talking about books they’d both read, and only hummed vaguely when Enjolras asked if Combeferre would mind if he turned on the TV. In the end Combeferre wasn’t even disappointed that he hadn’t managed to read a single page of his new book.

After he’d announced that he was going to bed, Combeferre received another text, reading _sleep well book nerd_ , to which he replied _and you, fellow book nerd_. He didn’t check his phone anymore after that, but did find a smiley face waiting for him in the morning.

Combeferre didn’t reply to it, mostly because he wasn’t quite sure what to say, but also because he needed to get to class. They did end up talking again, though. Over and over again. Soon Combeferre was starting to reach a point where he got ridiculously excited every single time his phone gave a chime.

Enjolras kept throwing him knowing looks and didn’t even get angry when he saw Combeferre text during a meeting. When they were on their way home, Combeferre finally caved. “I think I made a new friend,” he said lowly.

“The one you’re texting day and night?” Enjolras asked. “I was starting to wonder who it might be. So…?”

Combeferre smiled. “I’m afraid there’s not much to tell,” he said and then decided to start at the very beginning. At the end of the story Enjolras could only barely bite back his laughter.

“So you’ve been talking to this person and you don’t know their name or, well, _anything_ about them except that they have a great taste in books,” Enjolras said slowly, still grinning. “And you’re not even the slightest bit curious? Don’t you want to meet them?”

“I am curious,” Combeferre said, “although I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to just ask them if they want to meet up, you know?”

“Because they might be a serial killer who also happens to be really into books?”

Combeferre nodded. “Exactly.” Although it wasn’t the only thing he was worried about. It was one thing to talk via text messages, but Combeferre just wasn’t sure what to except if they were to meet in person. Maybe they’d end up disliking each other.

“Still,” Enjolras said, hooking his arm around Combeferre’s, “it might be worth it. I could go with you if you don’t want to meet them on your own.”

“I’ll think about it,” Combeferre mumbled.

Thinking about it took up a great deal of his time – even when he was actually concentrating on something else entirely, his thoughts often wandered back to whether or not he should ask if they could meet in person. Combeferre had about a dozen different versions of the same message drafted on his phone.

He’d also played with the thought of just calling them, but it also seemed like a strange thing to do to him, since all they’d ever done was text. But with every new text he got, with each and every one he sent back, Combeferre became surer and surer that he needed to meet them.

He sighed when his phone lit up once again.

_Unknown Contact: i have a surprise for you_

_You: What kind of surprise?_

_Unknown Contact: you’ll see_

_Unknown Contact: hopefully_

Combeferre didn’t get any other texts after that and also didn’t have any time to reply because he needed to get to the library for his shift. This time Cosette was at the front desk and Combeferre busied himself with cataloguing the new donations that had come in back in the office. He didn’t pay much attention when people struck up conversations with Cosette. Except that one time when it looked like he was going to get even more work to do.

“Hi, sorry, I just wanted to drop this off…”

“Hello,” Cosette said, “put it right here. Thank you so much for brining it over.”

“Actually, it’s for one of your colleagues, I suppose. I don’t know their name, but they’ll know what it’s about when they see it, I talked to them about it. This sounds weird, I’m sorry, but could you put it somewhere where they might find it?”

“Absolutely,” Cossette said, a mildly curious tone creeping into her voice.

“Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. Have a nice day.”

Combeferre wasn’t quick enough to peer outside the office, he only saw a guy with dark curls and the skinniest jeans on planet earth disappear through the door.

Cosette swiveled around in her chair, raising her eyebrows at Combeferre. “Have you talked about this art history book with anyone lately?”

Combeferre nearly tripped over his own feet on his way over to Cosette. He took the book, snorting when he saw that it was brand new copy of the art history book that he’d found the phone number in.

“So, it’s for you?” Cosette asked lowly.

“Apparently it is,” Combeferre muttered and opened the book. He couldn’t even say that he was surprised when he found a note tucked inside.

 

_I think we should have dinner sometime._

_Since you already have my number, I drew you a cat. (Because you mentioned that you like them.)_

_I used a piece of paper this time, I hope you’re proud._

_\- Grantaire (aka the guy you’ve been talking to for the past three-ish weeks and who really wants to know what your name is, by the way)_

Under it was a drawing of a sleeping cat. Combeferre smiled and then turned to Cosette. “Do you mind if I…” He pointed at the door. There was a chance that Grantaire hadn’t got too far yet and Combeferre really didn’t want to miss this opportunity to finally meet him face to face.

“Go ahead,” Cosette said and took back the book, “I’ll hold on to this for you.”

“Thank you,” Combeferre said and quickly walked out the door, looking around to see if he could spot Grantaire anywhere. Apparently it was Combeferre’s lucky day, because Grantaire seemed to have stopped at the coffee cart over by the main building.

Combeferre walked as slowly as he could bring himself to – he didn’t want to scare Grantaire after all. It was only when he was starting to get closer that he realized that Grantaire didn’t even know what he looked like. Combeferre stepped closer and cleared his throat. “Grantaire?”

Grantaire turned around, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Hello, I’m Combeferre.” Combeferre bit his lip. “I just wanted to say thank you… for the book.”

“Oh,” Grantaire said, smiling at him. “Hey. Yeah, sorry, I didn’t know if it was creepy and I wasn’t even sure if you actually worked there, I just assumed… and, well, I thought I might as well give it a try. Anyway, hi.”

“Hi,” Combeferre echoed, “it’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice that you didn’t run away screaming the second you laid eyes on me,” Grantaire said, his lips twitching. “Or, I suppose you already saw me when I dropped off the book, so…” He looked down at his cup of coffee. “Do you want coffee?”

“Actually, I need to get back to work,” Combeferre said. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Right, for the book.” Grantaire nodded. “It was really hard to get, by the way, apparently it’s not being printed any longer. Guess someone must have noticed that it’s boring as fuck.”

“Yes, the book,” Combeferre said, smiling at him, “and the drawing of the cat. And the dinner invitation.”

Grantaire hummed. “Yeah, that. I wasn’t sure, you know, if I should, because we barely know each other. And I don’t even know if you’re into guys. But it could also be a friend dinner date. Whatever works for you. Like, even if you’re into guys and not into me, it’s cool.” He took a deep breath, smiling apologetically. “Sometimes I talk too much.”

Combeferre laughed. “I noticed,” he said. “I wouldn’t say that it’s necessarily a bad thing, though. So, dinner?”

“Yes, dinner. What kind of dinner?” Grantaire asked. Then he bit his lip. “You can obviously think about that, you don’t have to decide right now.”

“No, it’s alright,” Combeferre said. He’d actually decided a while ago. “Let’s go out on a date. Are you busy tonight? Because my shift ends at eight and I wouldn’t mind grabbing a bite afterwards.”

Grantaire grinned. “I’ll pick you up.”

“Great,” Combeferre said, “I’ll see you later.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I have a [writing blog](http://musains.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
